


promises are like misfired pottery (you never keep as many as you make)

by bebitched



Category: Twilight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-18
Updated: 2008-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bebitched/pseuds/bebitched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted scene from Breaking Dawn between Alice and Bella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promises are like misfired pottery (you never keep as many as you make)

**Author's Note:**

> One of the issues I had with BD was the sad lack of Bella/Alice interaction. So I sought to rectify that. Thanks to chinesebakery for the beta!

 

 

“Alice.”

 

The word is a shadow, a raspy puff of air that somehow mends itself in the space between you and her in time to reach your ear, and you’re sure that if you’d been human you wouldn’t have heard it.

 

“Yes, Bella?”

 

You don’t move from your perch on the stairs, far (enough) away, but the house is so misleadingly calm that you can carry a conversation this way. Any closer and… your head aches with just the thought.

 

Bella swallows.

 

“You can’t… can you come here?”

 

You wince at the request but the hesitation lasts a mere moment. You can’t deny her in this state, not when there’s so much at stake and you don’t know what might send her over the edge. That’s just it; you don’t _know_ and it’s killing you.

 

You peek around the corner and squint against the fuzziness.

 

“I’m here.”

 

Bella shifts, her belly moving with her under the blanket, before her eyes steal themselves away as if she’s finally made up her mind about something.

 

“I want you to promise me something.”

 

You cock your head in curiosity. You don’t have much to offer her now; your promise to turn her is moot considering the circumstances (it seemed like that distended plane ride was a human lifetime ago and you doubt she even remembers your conversation) and you’re just as inept at seeing her future now as any corner-street fortune teller with tea leaves and wax drippings. Helpless seems like a dirty word.

 

“I guess that depends on whether it’s something I can promise.” You have visions (not the real kind, the kind you want, but the ones that come from your imagination) of Edward snarling about something you’d given your word on that you really shouldn’t have. Not that you think it would get that far; you’re blind but he’s not deaf.

 

“It is.” She struggles to take a deep breath and you wait. “If something happens to me-“

 

“Bella-“ You interrupt her because the possibility of it, even the probability of it, stings. She’s your sister and you love her and you’ll have the rest of eternity to tease her and dress her up like a Barbie doll with bendable legs, and any other option makes you sick. But she’s talking over you before you can continue and the effort of such volume alarms you. She’s practically panting now.

 

“No, Alice! I need to say this. I’m not an idiot, I know the risks.” She runs a hand over her stomach lovingly and you shudder. “I know, even though I promised myself, promised them-” she swishes her hand towards the living room in a feeble attempt to signify the family, Jacob… Edward. “I promised them that I would live, that I would keep my heart beating. But if I can’t, if I’m not strong enough… I need you to promise me that you won’t let Edward do anything stupid.”

 

You take in a quick breath, because you’d been trying not to think about that, about the chance that you’d lose your sister and your brother in one fell swoop. Once again, you strain against the boundaries of your vision and it snaps back at you like an angry bungee cord. Hard. You can’t tell anyone it’s all going to be alright.

 

“I’ll try.” The déjà vu of it rocks you in what you presume motion sickness would feel like (you’re used to looking forward, not looking back). The last time you’d been here he hadn’t even had proof of her death, not with blood on his hands or a death certificate or her body… this time would be different.

 

“Do more than try, Alice. _Promise_ me.”

 

You blink, sealing your eyelids and breathing in through your nose. Will it really hurt her to lie? She wouldn’t know the difference.

 

“I promise.”

 

Bella nods, satisfied even though you’re sure a healthier version of her would have fought harder against your blatant fib, but she slips against the pillows and sleep overtakes her as well, her breath coming in rasps and her heartbeat a pair of overworked butterfly wings.

 

You don’t turn to look at him before he speaks.

 

“Thank you.”

 

You duck your head, a human gesture you’d picked up over the years.

 

“For what?”

 

Edward passes you to sit beside her and you curl your finger around the corner of the wall, already slipping back up the stairs.

 

“For lying to her.” Your lips purse and you glare, but he isn’t paying attention to you, his eyes focused on the goose bumps on Bella’s skin as he traces patterns on the soft plane of her hand. “When this is over-” you don’t want to hear the subtext behind _this_ (her, me, everything) but you can’t help it and your frown deepens, “- you won’t be able to stop me. No one will.”

 

You feel the sudden urge to smack the back of his head, stone crashing against his granite skull, but you don’t have it in you anymore and the anger leeches away towards your toes and into the floorboards.

 

_I hope you’re wrong_, you think towards him, as the staircase once more becomes your sanctuary. 

 

 

  


End file.
